Glitter Reminiscence
by iwishedforyouandyoucame
Summary: Golden flakes began to drift down from hidden panels in the roof, spilling slowly at first, before flowing gracefully, in a steady stream; towards the glistening bodies. Alec sighed, narrowing his eyes, before snapping them closed. It was glitter. Everywhere. (Post breakup ficlet) Alec decides to visit a mundane club that reminds him of Magnus Bane.


A/N: I know it's been a **long** while since I posted anything (I'm so sorry!), but hopefully my writing has improved! Malec, just happens to be my OTP, and I had a "light-bulb moment" a few months ago, and this is the resulting story. It's only short, and is set after their *spoiler* break up in COLS. I apologise in advance for any spelling or punctuation errors.

Disclaimer: All characters (Alec and Magnus specifically) belong to Cassandra Clare. The two quotes used in this story (in italics) are from her wonderful MI series.

_Glitter Reminiscence_

The heat scorched his skin, as he reluctantly admired the youthful bodies that bounded across the slick marble tiles covering the expanse of the dance floor. It was a compressed room, with glossy dark walls and floors that were drowned in suffocating colours; released in inescapably bright, decorative cascades, flashing rays and flecks of light. Long reels of small, jewel shaped bulbs were tightly wrapped around the various columns that were scattered throughout the building, and were hung on multiple shelves that clung to the walls. On these shelves, were bizarre ornaments; empty jars, that were sensuously artful in their curved glory, were made of a glassy material, which seemed to scintillate brilliantly -as if bejewelled- in the flickering light. Said jars were draped in loose, artificial vines; powdered with a fine coating of glitter.

The nightclub was well decorated. Once could say that it was a tad overdone... Not that anyone within his vicinity seemed to notice.

There was the occasional seeping of thin, ethereal smog, which cast a luminous glow upon the sweating occupants of the club, and dispersed lingeringly across the expansive lounges and tables that were dotted on the borderlines of the swarming dancers.

With a clearly audible hiss, another cloud of smog released itself and began to journey through the crowd, until it reached the scuffed shoes of one particularly irritable occupant.

Alexander Gideon Lightwood was seated on one of the many sofas, with his elbows on his knees; a blunt expression of disinterest pasted on his hardened features. He was close enough to have a clear view of the dance floor, though not within the proximity of a few metres; lest someone ask him to join the untamed carousing, which intimidated him to the very core. The blinding lights danced across his face, casting shadows that sharpened the defined angles of his jaw, and cheekbones; emitting faint patterns on the faded lilac of his heavy eyelids.

The stark lighting coruscated from one place to another, juxtaposing the pitch black of the winter night sky outside. Alec's forehead creased, as he heard the familiar cries of excitement and exhilaration that echoed across the room. _Of course..._

The intoxicated dancers began to writhe and sway; moving in an instinctive harmony, as if performing a synchronised routine. The mutuality of their robotic movements was slightly unsettling, and Alec could feel the sheer ecstasy that poured from their adrenaline. It was enveloping...a difficult sensation to ignore.

The synchronisation was enigmatic; igniting the flame of passion, as his eyes glazed over the mass of people embracing, linking hands and sealing lips; eyelids falling to half mast as the young bodies danced into oblivion. Alec flinched at the intimacy before him; mouth tightening as his slender fingers tightened in a clenched grip. He ignored the pang.

There was a quiet pause for the flicker of a moment, and time seemed slow; as if an angel had flicked a switch and caused everything to cease movement.

That was when it began.

Golden flakes began to drift down from hidden panels in the roof, spilling slowly at first, before flowing gracefully, in a steady stream; towards the glistening bodies. Alec sighed, narrowing his eyes, before snapping them closed.

It was glitter. Everywhere.

It fell upon Alec's hair, caressing his pale skin, tangling in the web of his dark lashes, and sticking to his eyelids. The sensation roughly jolted his memories, tugging painfully at those he hadn't revisited in quite some time.

He saw shoulder length raven black hair; untameable strands that tangled at the ends, somehow ensnaring themselves in the mindless tossing and turning of sleep; until they were entwined bizarrely with one another when they weren't otherwise spiked with copious amounts of hair gel. Alec winced, as his memory cleared; stripping the figure of any ambiguity. There was no mistaking who'd come to mind. Someone he thought of often…too often.

Impossibly thin pupils; swallowed by irises, the colour of golden topaz, with flecks of hazel green and gold. Gold… The glitter always reminded Alec of _him_; and the mornings they would spend, drowning in each other's embrace. Alec wondered whether the warlock ever knew how much time he'd spent gazing in awe; eagerly committing every feature to memory.

His training regime had always resulted in an early awakening every morning; earlier than necessary, and hours before sunrise. He would lay as still as he could, and would simply gaze at the fragile dance of the warlock's fluttering, delicate eyelids and long inky lashes; mesmerised by the steady breathing and fiery heartbeat of the beautiful creature that lay beside him. Shadows would be cast along the defined planes of the warlock's features as the sun rose and cast its soft, mellow light in the early hours of the day...Soft lips would quirk slightly, and Magnus's cheeks would dimple prettily.

Pretty... Such an oddly fitting word to describe him...No... He was more beautiful.

Alec shivered; eyes glassy as he attempted to divert his attention to the golden scene. His lips quirked into a bitter smirk as he leaned into the seat, sighing quietly as the glitter shower ended, and stray pieces brushed his collar bone. The glitter rained down every few hours, covering everyone from head to toe. _Must be a nightmare cleaning this place up..._

Alec sat quietly for a few moments, and drew his gaze back to the dance floor, contemplating whether or not to leave. After a moment's contemplation, he decided to stay a while longer; knowing he'd rather face the strange mundanes at the club, than Isabelle's relentless inquisition.

Hours passed and the commotion continued as the music pounded and vibrated across the room. Alec caught himself in a peaceful haze; finally content with his role as a secluded observer, and in the fact that none of the humans seemed to have noticed his presence; despite not having used glamour to avert their eyes.

He allowed his eyes to close, and reopened them slowly, after a few seconds. As he regained his sight, a tall, slender figure caught his eye; a beautiful young man with particularly spiky strands that glistened as the lights darted back and forth; wild, sensual movements shaking stray glitter from his form. Alec's eyes widened, his chest seizing in a sudden rush of adrenaline. It couldn't be…

_Magnus_.

Shaking his head vigorously, Alec questioned his eyesight. Why would Magnus Bane be in a mundane nightclub? It took a few seconds for Alec to regain his composure, before the realisation dawned. Then again, why would _he, _an introverted nephilim be here in the first place?

Alec stood, knees almost buckling in his haste, as he made a beeline towards the dance floor. From where he stood, the dancing figure turned, and spared a glance towards him; flashing vibrant amber pupils.

_Magnus_.

He was panicked now. The warlock had turned, and was drifting away; gliding, and weaving through the crowd. Alec ran through the suffocating mob, eyes stinging with hostile warmth. He was jolted from side to side, as dancers pushed him haphazardly, as he broke their rhythm.

_No…_

Alec watched the lithe form drift across the club. He was moving out of sight. A soft whoosh signalled the entrance of the smog; and the music seemed to amplify; drowning out his cry of frustration. The smog blanketed the room; crawling up past their feet, to fill the room to its entirety. The dancers cheered in a renewed frenzy, as they continued swaying to the beat; jostling Alec blindly, as he fell to the outskirts of the dance floor. Magnus's voice rang through his head; rattling his subconscious painfully.

_"You stupid Nephilim. Why else am I here? Why else would I have spent the past few weeks patching up all your moronic friends every time they got hurt? And getting you out of every ridiculous situation you found yourself in?"_

_Magnus…_

When the smog faded; Alec rubbed his eyes with trembling fists; swiping angrily, in vain, as his eyes brimmed with salty tears. He loved him. He loved Magnus Bane. The memories came flooding back in tides of masochism.

_"I didn't call you because I'm tired of you only wanting me around when you need something. I'm tired of watching you be in love with someone else - someone, incidentally, who will never love you back. Not the way I do."_

It had been ephemeral; at least it had felt that way. Magnus had sauntered into the blank canvas of Alec's world; only to create a collage of memories; and an imperishable, everlasting imprint on the love-sick shadow hunter. And then he was gone; with a blink of Alec's azure blue eyes. Eyes that the warlock had particularly favoured… It had been a peculiar notion to Alec, that he had met the seemingly exorbitant tastes of Magnus Bane; a beautiful creature who had been -at the time of their acquaintance- so thoroughly unattainable.

Alec had presumed, time and time again, that Magnus lusted after him for being –he cringed- an "attractive person", by his standards. By the time he had learnt to recognise otherwise, -that Magnus did indeed love him, and that his feelings were mutual, if not more ardent, than the warlock's-; the pernicious creeping of time and paranoia, had come back to haunt him.

White knuckles blanched further, as his fingernails began to burrow deeper; piercing flesh. Erratic breaths were muted in the thudding of speakers, and writhing bodies. The secrecy, the doubt; had eaten away at the foundations of their trust. Magnus had heard the name Camille. He had assumed the worst, and it was over. They had shattered each other in the throes of ignorance.

Alec did not know whether the warlock in the club had been a figment of his fantasy; dreamt of pure desire and self pity. Perhaps he truly had been there; watching over Alec, and reminiscing of the halcyon days they had spent together.

Another pang; this one cut deeper, harsher than the rest.

It didn't matter now. There was no revisiting the past. There was no going back. It really didn't matter to Alec; because it was, as he had expected.

Magnus was gone. He was gone without a trace, without a word.

Alec made no effort to stand; his face pale and untainted like porcelain; save for the tears streaking pink cheeks and flecks of gold.

In the chilliness of the biting night air, a tall, svelte figure sighed, snapping his fingers for a long overcoat. He refrained from turning back into the pandemonium; breath hitching in the effort it took to maintain a calm countenance; though there was no one outside to see it.

It took a lot of willpower-and sobriety- to forsake his reckless and impulsive urge, to smash through the door, and yank the raven haired nephilim into a tight embrace. He would have done so, a few minutes beforehand, had he not escaped; for he had been at breaking point. His desire to solace, to protect and love the young nephilim, had overrun any cohesive thoughts. Magnus had been a precarious, emotional wreck.

Their divide was driving him insane. Oh what he'd give to be able to snap his fingers; for his ex-lover to be by his side, and for everything to be as it had been. Before the tension, before manipulative jealousy; before his brusque goodbye.

Magnus sighed again. The sound was uncharacteristically weary; and was further contrasted in the fact that his movements remained graceful, and likened to a feline's. The moon cast deep shadows across his high cheekbones; flushed under the frosty sting of at the front of the nightclub caused him to turn quickly; tensing in anticipation, as he cast a subliminal plea.

_Alec?_

"Move it, ya punks."

His hopes diminished, as swiftly as they had appeared; heart sinking as it heaved tidal waves of silent aching and pangs of longing. The gaggle of drunken youth made their way past the warlock without sparing him a second glance; laughing raucously as the bouncer shoved one of brawny males; causing them to stumble towards a beaten old vehicle.

Shoving his trembling hands into the deep pockets of the overcoat; Magnus made his way across the neon lit road; kicking a loose stone on the pavement as he went. He followed his bare instincts to guide him wherever they would; trusting them to keep him alive. The corners of his mouth lifted faintly, knowing the night would be long and bitter; with his thoughts unsteady with fatigue, and heavily occupied by a certain nephilim and glitter rain.


End file.
